


The Golden Man

by Ruffiticus (orphan_account)



Category: Steam Powered Giraffe
Genre: Ruffy writes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-09
Updated: 2012-11-09
Packaged: 2017-11-18 10:44:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/560153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Ruffiticus





	The Golden Man

“I don’t see why we have to go to the mall together,” he groaned from the backseat. The purple tanktop he’d been wearing all week- still soft and free as any clean fabric- stood out against the monotone grey of the seat fabrics. The sky was dark grey-ish black and it was raining as hard as any hailstorm, but the lightning refused to break in the cool air outside as they drove along the interstate in the functional, if small, family vehicle.

“Now, Michael,” said the woman at the wheel. By the age in her face and the gentle firmness in her voice one would easily label her as the kid’s mother. “Quality time is a great way to bond with family! All the magazines say so!”

“Magazines,” he scoffed to himself as he picked up the phone from its place next to his loosely jeaned left thigh. “You’re always reading magazines.” His tone carried a heavy feeling of either stubborn distaste or the sting of anger that kids his age usually held up as a barrier to their feelings.

“Michael, listen to your mother,” his father said in one of his many out of context ways. Authoritarian, he’d describe it as, like any other teen would.

“Whatever.” It was then that the spark of lightning showed off the right side of the car and distracted everyone for a few seconds. “My, what lovely— MOM!”

It happened in slow motion. The driver who had been following them to pass a few minutes ago stopped abruptly in their path. Michael raised his arms instinctively to cover his face, and the shrieking from his terrified parents was met by his own blood-curdling scream as the car made impact. The car flipped up and over the drunk driver’s car to turn mid air and land on the right flank as it hit the ground to skid fifty feet. From there it rolled a few more times down the small incline in the road before coming to a final stop on it’s roof. He’d seen them get crushed by the airbags as they were deployed, and his own “soft” cushion of safety had done quite a number on his own body. They flew into the windscreen despite their belts and he’d hit his head on the driver’s seat. After that the world had gone black. When his eyes opened again, though, he was dazed and confused as to why there was the smell of burning rubber and blood wafting into his nose. Michael wasn’t conscious for much longer after that, though, as the fumes finally put him back into the blackness he’d just escaped.

-

The ICU was quiet and blurry all those hours after the crash, and the splitting headache was a testament to his survival. The teen in the bed groaned as his brain was forced to take in all the new surroundings and he immediately shut his eyes before waking up completely a few moments after. What met his sight the second time he looked from behind his lids, though, was not something normal.

“Are you okay?” A giant gold object had been shoved into his face, and a gentle voice was saying something that made him jump in his spot. The golden object retreated after he had, though, and upon further inspection it was tapping two index fingers together nervously. “I, uh, saw the crash and you looked hurt,” the voice said again. Wait, were those lips and were they moving?

“What?” asked Michael in a tight voice that sounded as painful as it felt. His blue eyes went wide as he registered what was in front of him at his bedside: A golden man with suspenders, a top hat, and a bowtie.

“You were in a really bad crash,” said the golden man with a sheepish smile. “I got you here on my own.”

“You’re a robot,” said Michael, of whom was now scooted away from the other humanoid at the edge of his bed to the best of his capabilities.

“Oh, uh,” the robot looked down at himself and laughed a little, “Yeah, I am. Are you okay? Do you need anythi—”

“You’re a robot,” repeated Michael in much the same tone. “A robot saved my life. A robot. You’re a robot!”

“Er… Yes, I am. You’ve, uh, said that before,” replied the robot who was very apparently a robot, as Michael had so helpfully pointed out. Needless to say, that kind of interaction went on until the golden man got an idea.

“I can show you something, if you like.”

The human in the room felt his ears perk as he nodded his head with the utmost curiosity being commanded into the gesture. “Yeah. I mean, ‘cause you—”

“Are a robot, I know,” replied the golden being with an electric laugh from his vocalizer. He pulled off his left glove to expose his mechanical hand. It was normal for something like him, everything all shiny and strange, but what he’d wanted to show the human was something particularly cool- or, well, at least to him it was.

The shiny being opened a small hole in his palm so a small creature of blue whispy energy was standing in his palm. “It’s a T-Rex.”

Michael was in shock for a solid minute before he remembered that talking was a thing he could do to communicate his thoughts. “That’s so cool!” And then the rest of that next hour was spent making little blue animals out of a strange robot’s hand. They wouldn’t have done over their meeting even if they’d been given the chance.

-

A week later he was out of the ICU and free to roam around again. After that first day, the golden robot he’d come to know as The Jon had visited every chance he’d gotten, and a real friendship had started to form. The teen had been so preoccupied with the robot that he’d only just remembered to ask where his parents were when he was checking out at the front desk.

The receptionist looked at him with a smile and asked, “Last names?”

“Reed.”

The woman, of black heritage and slightly chubby around the waist, typed in the name to the database and her face might have slipped off if it weren’t attached. “Honey? Uhm, listen, I have some, er, rather bad news to tell you,” she started off. As she talked, Michael’s smile dropped into the epitome of a frown. By the end he was fighting tears. “I’m sorry, honey.”

It was then that the officers showed up and one tapped the emotionally rended Michael Reed on the right shoulder, as his left arm was broken. “Michael Reed? We’re going to need you to come with us.”

“But… Why?”

“Standard police duty when a crash is unexplained and no bystanders are available for questioning,” said the one on the left.

“It’s complicated legal stuff, kid, don’t get too worried. Just answer all the questions the nice man at the station asks you, alright?” They ushered the near-silent Michael Reed to their police car with little nudges to keep him from stopping in the middle of the lobby at random intervals. His head was a huge typhoon full of nothing but confusion, and was most definitely not in the mood for questioning.

Mere moments after the teen had left, a golden bot that had been seen around quite frequently the last week marched in to the hospital with two other bots. One was of a copper metal with fanciful designs adorning the sides of his face while around his hat rested goggles made of brass, the other a titanium man with a long, businessman like stride and quite dapper appearance.

“You’ll love him! He’s totally what Peter Walter the sixth described!” shouted the golden bot with a jovial throw of his arms to the air.

“The Jon, do-do-don’t you remember saying that about the last five guys?” asked the copper bot with a quirk of his funny eyebrow mechanism.

“Yeah, but this guy’s different!” chimed The Jon as he walked up to the reception desk with a bright smile about his golden faceplates. “I’d like to see Michael Reed, please!” beamed the bot as his bright blue eyes looked upon her face as innocently as any child. It was easy to tell just how horrible The Jon felt when she told him very gently that Michael had been taken to the police station.

When the bots got back home, The Jon told Peter Walter VII of Michael’s fate, and the guy just stepped out without so much as a goodbye! He always had been strange, ever since he had been born, always keeping to himself and doing weird things when people weren’t looking.

-

Michael Philip Reed, the teen who survived a carcrash that his parents never made it out of, sat in a blankly white room at a table with nothing on it except a water bottle and an ashtray. He was fidgety, every little sound had him jumping, and above all, he did not like being in such a small space for so long on his own. That last little bit was remedied by the door creaking open to effectively give the poor kid a heart attack.

“Easy, kid, it’s only me, the questions guy,” said a gentleman with a rather buisiness-y type of look about him. He took his seat across from the young man who so fidgeted with a haste that he’d not seen even when Rabbit would malfunction. “You gonna be okay?”

“Huh?” asked Michael as his runny red eyes looked up to the man who’d sat across from him as if it were a surprise he was there. The teen wiped at his eyes and bit his lip nervously.

“Jeeze, they were right,” said the suited man as he ran a hand through his finely conditioned hair. “You are like I wanted.”

“Uh…” Michael looked to both sides as if that would somehow give his confusion some satisfaction. “Thanks?”

“Quiet, reserved- you play instruments, if I’m correct?” asked the man as he folded his hands into his lap nicely and neatly.

With a slow nod, Michael wiped his eyes again and creased his brows in a questioning way. “What’s all this got to do with my parents?”

“I thought you’d never ask!” The man stood and started to walk in a slow semi-circle towards the teen. “Now, my shiny robot friend tells me that you’re in need of a home, yes?”

“Yeah…” Metal friend? Who— “You know The Jon?”

“He’s been my babysitter for my entire life,” said the man with a picture-perfect grin. Michael’s eyes widened and the man’s grin grew. “I can let you come stay with us, but only if you promise to take good care of my bots.” The teen nodded vigorously and mister Peter A Walter VI heaved a sigh of playful relief. “Good, because I already filled out the adoption papers for my father. You were coming home anyway.”

With that they walked out of the room and passed the office on the way, Mister Walter dropping the forms off with the receptionist guy before he and his new brother headed home.


End file.
